A Flash of Purple
by Miss. Demon Doll
Summary: Hermione Granger is flung back in time only to find that everything she believes about the war is completely wrong. (First few chapters are being compiled, and each new chapter will be longer.)
1. Prologue

...

The last thing that Hermione Granger saw as she fell to the cold stone floor was the Death Eater's leer, and a flash of purple. After that everything slowly ebbed and flowed into a wavering black.

Black, and then grey, and finally a white light flickered across the witch's eyes.

Hermione awoke with a gasp, her hands pulling at a crisp sheet that the witch soon realized was covering and pinning the lower part of her body. It took another moment for her to regain her memory and when she did, her eyes flashed open in fear.

They had been ambushed, the witch remembered frantically, it had been a trick.

The memories of curses and imposing figures in black robes and horrid masks unfolded in her mind, making her body jerk. Hermione clutched her hand against the fear that seemed to flow through her, the numb tingling that followed only emphasizing the pain.

And what of Harry, and Ron?

She sat up quickly, her hands out defensively, before a moan was pulled from her throat at the pain that clutched and trembled through her body. Hermione didn't know what had happened to her best friends. The last thing that she remembered was... was a whispered " _this is for last time"_ and dark eyes staring at her...

Is that what he had said, the Death Eater, before laughing and flinging the curse at her. The witch shivered and pulled on the sheets once more before she felt strong hands restraining her. Maybe she was wrong, she couldn't fully remember what had happened. Why would he say those words? It didn't make any sense.

Hermone's head ached as she struggled to stand, only to feel strong hands push her back down.

"Lay down, dear." Someone said as the sound of a finger tapping glass echoed and Hermione relented, falling back into the dark dream-world that seemed to take away the pain as a cool liquid hit her lips.

The witch didn't know how long she had slept, but when she woke again it was to voices speaking insistently. They seemed far off, distant to the witch while she clutched for some form of understanding. Hermione found little comfort in the words that reached her as her mind cleared and the voices became distinct.

"How is she?" A voice, that the witch just couldn't place, hummed near her, the sound wavering in her ear.

"She's struggling. There has been some nerve damage." There was a sigh from a feminine voice, "I will do my best, but this spell- the damage will be, in all likelihood, permanent. I can try-"

"What was the spell?" The first voice interrupted, closer this time, hovering.

"I couldn't tell you, it's nothing like I have ever seen before. They will have to interrogate Dolohov to find out what the effects will be." A silence settled, seeming to stretch on forever before the same voice continued, "But, I can tell you this... if Hermione hadn't silenced him, we would doubtlessly be looking at a dead child right now."

The witch listened to the words, her brain whirring with the information. She had been so close to death, it was only that he hadn't spoken the curse that she was alive. She was so lucky to have...

Hermione's skin crawled as something dawned on her, making her nearly lose her breath.

 _I didn't silence anyone._

The thought slowly faded away as Hermione felt a cool breeze and then warmth before she drifted into another sleep, a chilling one that grasped her with harsh tendrils and pulled her deep, deep under.

...


	2. Instincts

...

Hermione Granger had never been the intuitive type. Divination, in her personal opinion, was complete rubbish. It was smoke and mirrors -trickery at its core- and she wanted nothing to do with it. The idea of taking action based on a feeling had always rubbed the young witch the wrong way.

It was guessing and to the studious witch, who found research and learning a crutch in a world that was so completely new to her, guessing was hazardous.

Thus, during the days leading up to Bill and Fleur's wedding, when Hermione felt that something was horribly off, she simply ignored it.

An action Hermione found rather easy.

She had gotten used to ignoring things over the years.

She had learned early on to ignore the sneers from her classmates at her muggle schools, and the whispers to "stay away from the Granger girl", followed by the hissed " _freak_ " as she passed.

Then it became " _mudblood_ " that was spat her way, which just as quickly became something she barely registered. Something to ignore.

She ignored the echo of numbness that had never truly left after she was cursed that horrible day. She ignored the sporadic hint of pain that thrummed through her scarred body, even if it did cause her to flex her fingers into a fist just to relieve the uncomfortable feelings.

She ignored the bent heads of her boys, who whispered in earnest when they believed she wasn't watching.

It hurt a little, the witch decided as she watched the stars all alone one night. The way Harry looked at her as if she was fragile. The fact that Ron rarely smiled her way anymore. It crept on her nerves, and made her twitch with the need to get away from their protective gaze. To escape.

It made her nervous to be seen as delicate. And, if she was being honest, she despised it. So much so, that when her vision began dimming at the edges, Hermione didn't mention it. When she began forgetting what she was doing only a moment earlier, she kept it to herself. When she woke up to her own screaming, she learned to strengthen her silencing charms.

And when she felt an intense paranoia while dressing for the Weasely-Delacour wedding she simply pressed her lips together and powered through it.

It seemed to work for the most part. Hermione was able to make it through the ceremony, her fingers clutched and hidden between the folds of her skirt. It seemed that her paranoia was just that - paranoia - and the witch slowly forgot her worries. But, then the screams began. They echoed from not too far away as she danced with Fred.

Hermione stopped, pulling the twin to a halt with her, when her ears picked up the noises. Then, slowly other couples stopped as well.

The music ceased and silence settled as the witches and wizards glanced worriedly at each other, unsure what was happening or what to do.

"The tent's on fire!" a woman behind her shrieked.

Hermione looked up to see fire spreading along the wood beam just above as the flames grew larger. They licked the sky as they spread, lighting up the Death Eaters that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Clutching her beaded bag in one hand and her wand extended in the other, Hermione left a distracted Fred.

The smoke had begun to get thick, making the witch's eyes water as she squinted through the haze and stumbled out of the tent. It was dark outside, the fire creating grotesque shadows against the chaos that ensued. Hunching down, Hermione ran away from the lawn and towards the great fields.

She prayed that Ron and Harry had done the same. If she could find them, they could apparate to London and begin their journey, their mission. She had planned for this. The witch clutched her bag tighter. She had everything prepared.

Curses lit the field like fireworks as Hermione ran, dodging through the tall weeds. Just a little farther away, the witch spotted the silhouette of the two wizards back to back. They stood as they had always practiced during their make-shift DADA lessons. One holding up a shield and the other scanning the field.

She sped up, waving at her friends.

The figures turned toward her, making fear suddenly haze her mind as she realized something wasn't right. They were taller than she remembered, imposing figures that made her heart speed up. Those weren't her wizards. She skidded to a stop, and as a flash of green light erupted from behind them the witch saw the wand extended towards her.

A sting erupted in her arm and Hermione flew backwards to the ground, the impact making her wand fly across the dirt and weeds. One of the figures drew towards her, the silver designs of his mask suddenly clear from the flickering lights

Panic tumbled through her body as he stomped closer, before crouching down to rip the purple bag from her hands and throw it to the figure behind him. He pulled a knife from his side and before Hermione could move away, the wizard grabbed her hand roughly to bring the blade to it.

"Please don't!" Her scream echoed as she kicked at his body. Unperturbed, the Death Eater cut open her palm. The pain bringing tears to the witch's eyes.

"Cras ac nocte tempus-" Droplets of blood fell to the dirt as the wizard whispered, the words becoming white noise to the witch as a sudden dizziness took her over.

Seemingly finished the Death Eater dropped her hand to stand up, and the witch scooted backwards. In the dust just beside her, Hermione saw her wand. Through the pain that stung her arm she crawled towards it.

With the wood clutched in her good hand, Hermione turned to curse him, but stopped. Light brown hair and grey eyes met hers. His cruel eyes crinkled as he looked at her tentatively, as if waiting.

Shaking her head, Hermione brought up the wand, the words of the curse on her lips. Before she could say them, the words melted on her tongue as the world began to fade.

The smirk that took over the Death Eater's face brought a cold wash through her body as everything she knew finally dissipated into darkness.

...

The world swayed, and Hermione braced herself against the sudden collision of ground, dropping her wand as she did so. Her hands throbbed with pain as they hit what felt like ice, splattering cold droplets which then settled as all around her became still. It was quiet now, the sounds of the battle gone and in its place the slight rhythm of wind.

Sitting up from where she had fallen, the witch found herself blinking away from the sudden sunlight that shone against her eyes. It was colder than it had been moments earlier. The frigid wind blew against the witch's bare skin as her eyes adjusted to the light. She squinted around, attempting the make out where she was.

Unlike the withered and dried field of late summer that she had once stood in, Hermione found herself in a field covered completely in snow.

Whatever blood-magic the Death Eater had done to her had sent her... somewhere.

Her heart began to race as she peered around, her hands beginning to tremble from the cold.

She was going to freeze to death. Was that what he had intended? Or perhaps she would be eaten -torn apart bit by bit- by a wild animal, by a werewolf? The witch glanced around, suddenly feeling exposed.

But, why send her here if his intentions were to simply kill her? Why go through the effort? Hermione shook her head. It didn't make any sense.

Despite the reasoning, whatever he had done to her had been a success. She could tell by the twisted smile that had spread across his face as he had disappeared.

Or, rather she had disappeared.

The silk-thin dress that Hermione wore blew against her skin, making her whole body begin to shake from the cold, and forcing the thoughts out of her mind. If she was going to survive, she needed to act now think later. And, the first thing she needed to do was find the wand she had dropped at impact.

Extending her arm and splaying her fingers out, the witch steadied herself, "Accio wand"

The wind whistled as it picked up.

"Accio wand!"

She waited a moment, before realizing nothing was going to happen. Kicking around in the snow with her flat, it took only a moment before Hermione saw the hard wood of her wand, and when she did she felt her heart nearly break.

"Shit!" she screamed at the splintered pieces that lay in the dirty sludge and were barely held together by a strip of wood.

Hermione flung down to lift the pieces only to be met with a sharp pain that needled its way through the arm that had been cursed, making her drop the wood back to the ground.

The witch winced, grabbing her arm, before letting go with another groan of pain.

Looking down at her hand she found that she was still bleeding. The red flowed and leaked from her palm onto the white snow below.

The cut was deeper than she had thought, and Hermione knew the first thing she needed to focus on was getting herself healed. She was bleeding too quickly, and losing too much blood.

Rubbing her eyes with her arm to take away the spots of darkness, the witch looked around to see if she could find any signs of civilization. She was met with nothing but fields and trees surrounding her.

The wind picked up, blowing a spray of snow towards her. Wiping the cold wet from her face, Hermione looked around more frantically. _Anything, anything._ She spun, as panic began to jostle through her body.

This was the end, this is how she was going to go. Not by war -not by a curse- no she was going to die cold and alone, and no one would ever know what happened to her.

Her lips began to tremble, and as she felt that it was useless to continue a smudge of red in a world of white and grey caught the witch's attention. Squinting through the wind, she realized that it was an odd looking house snuggled just behind the tree line.

Walking to the house through the drifts of snow proved harder that she had anticipated. The cold spread through her body quickly, making each step numb and stiff. Hermione knew she was losing heat fast, and if she didn't get somewhere warm soon she would die from hypothermia.

 _Just one more step._

Something caught against her foot, making her body slam against the ground. _It's just so cold_ , she shivered from the snow that melted and clung to her remaining body heat.

 _Don't give up, you can't give up._

 _But, I'm tired... so cold..._

Her eyes drifted shut.

With a gasp for breath, Hermione sat up quickly as a tremor wound through her body, making her keel backwards. The sudden pain after barely catching herself against the ground with the palms of her hands made the witch open her eyes.

The realization that she had just drifted off to sleep made the witch shake with fear. She had been so close to death, no she wouldn't let this happen to her. Getting on her hands and knees, Hermione began to crawl forward inch by inch.

Then, taking a shallow breath that rattled her bones, the witch stood.

Stumbling forward, the house seemed to steadily get closer and finally -finally- she found herself at the door. She knocked on it with her good hand, until it creaked open to show a woman with long blonde hair that shone silver.

"Are you okay, dear?" The words were soft as they reached Hermione's ears, the warmth from the house smelled like cinnamon and gingerbread.

Like the gingerbread her mother used to make for her when she was younger. _Sweet, spicy, and warm..._

The witch's eyes focused, and she realized that the woman was waiting for a response, "I think?" she swayed as she spoke, the dizziness intensifying as she suddenly felt drowsy again. Wasn't she okay? She felt warmer, maybe she just needed sleep.

The older witch looked Hermione up and down taking in the blood pooling at her feet and the formal dress, before beckoning her inside with a quick flutter of her hand, "Boys, help me! Xeno," the woman turned her head as she yelled behind her, "bring me my potions box and hurry!"

Hermione felt herself being pulled from the doorway, and heard the distinct snap of the door being shut behind her. The woman was talking to her again, but she couldn't hear her. She was just too cold, too tired.

A sudden pain across her cheek made the witch jump and recoil, but the words spoken were now clear against her ears.

"Stay with me. Tony, could you put this blanket on her?" Hermione suddenly felt a heavy cloth covering her shoulders. "Can you tell me your name?"

Closing her eyes, the witch struggled to response, just barely letting out a mumbled, "hm...Mione,"

"Good, good. Nice to meet you Mione. I'm Nyssa." The woman's hands felt warm as they patted Hermione's face. She leaned into it, feeling soothed if only slightly, as she listened to her soft voice. "My son Xeno is bringing the potions. Ah. yes, here it is. Now, I'm going to need you to drink this. Yes, there you go. Good girl."

The haze slowly disappeared as whatever the woman had given her slid down her throat. Hermione became suddenly aware of the woman in front of her, and someone propping her up from behind, their arm wrapped around her midsection.

"I only gave you a blood replenisher. We will need to heal your hand to completely stop the bleeding." The witch squeezed her shoulder as she drew out her wand, "It's going to hurt"

Hermione nodded, preparing herself for the pain, "Okay,"

The feeling of her skin knitting itself back together brought a hiss that bubbled up and out of her lips. The pain lasted only a moment, then faded into a dull throb. It hadn't been the worse pain she had ever felt, but Hermione was relieved that it was over. It was all over, she was alive.

The witch sagged in relief against the person who held her, as the older woman patted her hand against Hermione's matted hair and warmed her with spells. The witch stood like this for what seemed like forever, before finally the feeling of her body had begun to return.

Hermione opened her eyes, then stood straighter and nudged the person behind her to let her go.

The strong arm around her loosened only slightly, "Are you sure you stand by yourself, kukla?"

...


End file.
